Sister Fox and Brother Wolf

Sister Fox and Brother Wolf

Sister Fox lived in a little cottage at the edge of the forest. She was very proud of her ability to find a way out of any difficulty. But she had one fault: she loved a trick, even when she could simply have asked. Winter came. One morning her cottage grew cold, and the fire in her stove had gone out. “I must go to the village for an ember,” she said, and ran to the nearest house. She knocked. “Good day, Grandmother! May I borrow some fire?” “Come in and warm yourself, Fox,” the old woman replied. “I'm just taking poppy-seed buns out of the oven.” A bowl of golden buns appeared on the table. Fox breathed in their scent once, twice—and while the woman turned away, she snatched one and slipped outside. In the forest, she ate the sweet poppy-seed filling and stuffed the empty bun with dry grass. “Now here's something worth trading!” she said, pleased with herself. Soon she met boys driving cattle to water. “Who will trade me a young bull for a magical bun?” “A bull for a bun?” they laughed. But Fox praised the filling so extravagantly that one boy agreed. “Don't break it open until I'm around the bend!” she called, quickly leading the bull away. When the boys found dry grass instead of poppy seeds, they knew they had been cheated. By then Fox was far away. She made a small sled, harnessed the bull, and set off along a forest road. Brother Wolf came toward her. “Good day, Sister Fox! What a fine sled. Give me a ride.” “You? You're heavy. You'll break the runners.” “No, I won't. I'll only put one paw on.” “Very well. One paw.” They went a little farther. “May I put another paw on?” “Mind what you're doing!” Wolf set down a second paw. The sled gave a little creak. “Did you hear that?” Fox asked. “Only snow crunching under the runners.” They went on. “And a third paw?” “Wolf, I don't like this.” “Very gently.” As soon as he placed his third paw on the sled, it creaked again. By now Wolf was tired of running alongside. “Let me sit down properly. I'll curl up small.” “Oh, very well. Carefully.” Wolf sat. The sled traveled three more paces and collapsed into the soft snow. Fox leaped up. “I told you!” “I'm sorry,” said Wolf, embarrassed. “I really didn't think.” “Then help me make another. Go and cut straight wood. Remember—straight, not crooked!” Wolf went into the forest. He knew nothing about carpentry and returned with branches so twisted that they would have made a wreath for a snowman. “What a craftsman!” Fox sighed. “Stay here. I'll find the wood myself.” While she was gone, Wolf grew hungry. He watched the bull and paced around. “You mustn't take what isn't yours,” he told himself. But hunger overcame good sense. He ate all the provisions Fox had carried on the sled, then frightened the bull so badly that it broke free and ran back to the village. Fox returned to find neither food nor bull. “Well, Wolf!” she said furiously. “You've ruined my journey. I'll remember that supper!” They went their separate ways. Soon Fox saw wagons carrying fish. Her crafty mind began working again. She lay beside the road and pretended to be fast asleep. The people stopped. “Look, a fox. Perhaps she's frozen. Put her on the last wagon. We'll see whether she needs help when we reach the village.” They laid her on sacks of fish and drove on. As soon as they looked away, she opened one eye, then the other. “What luck!” She began dropping fish into the snow, one by one. After a dozen, she jumped down, gathered them, and settled behind a haystack to eat. Wolf appeared again. “Sister Fox, where did you get those?” “I caught them.” “Give me just one.” She remembered the broken sled and the runaway bull. “No. Catch your own.” “How?” Fox narrowed her eyes. “Go to a hole in the ice, lower your tail into the water, and say, ‘Come, little fish, both big and small!’” Wolf believed her. He found a hole in the river ice, sat beside it, and dipped his tail. “Come, little fish, both big and small!” The frost grew sharper. Ice began forming around his tail. Fox hid in the reeds and whispered: “Freeze, freeze, Wolf's tail...” “What are you saying?” he asked suspiciously. “I'm saying, ‘Come, little fish, both big and small!’ Stay a bit longer.” After a while Wolf tugged his tail. “Oh! A big fish must have caught hold!” He pulled harder, then realized there was no fish. His tail was frozen into the ice. “Fox! Another one of your tricks!” People from nearby houses heard him and hurried to the river. Instead of scolding, one man brought a bucket of warm water and carefully melted the ice. Wolf pulled his tail free, wet and bedraggled but unharmed. “Thank you,” he muttered, and ran away from the river. Meanwhile Fox slipped into an empty kitchen. Seeing a tub of dough, she thought of another trick. She dipped a paw in it, deliberately smeared it over her head, and went out to the road. Soon the angry Wolf approached. “There you are! I nearly spent the whole day trapped in ice because of you!” Fox clutched her head. “Dear Brother Wolf, don't be angry. Look what's happened to me! My whole head is white. I can barely walk.” He looked closely. The dough certainly looked strange. “What do you want?” “Carry me home. You're strong, and I'm so weak.” Wolf sighed. “Climb on. But this is the last time I believe you without checking.” Fox settled on his back and murmured: “The battered carries the unharmed, the battered carries the unharmed...” “What are you saying?” “Kind Wolf is carrying Fox!” But when they reached her cottage, she jumped down, laughed, and sang: “The battered has carried the unharmed!” Wolf looked at her, then at the dough on her head. Suddenly he understood. “You've tricked me again.” Fox was ready to dart indoors, but he did not chase her. He simply sat in the snow. “You know, Fox, I behaved foolishly over the sled and the food. But you could have told me you were angry. You could have asked me to make things right. Instead you set one trap after another.” She stopped laughing. “Well... it was funny.” “For you. Not for me.” Wolf stood up. “If you want to be a real sister to me, come without tricks.” He walked into the forest. Fox remained at the door. At first she snorted. Then she looked at her reflection in a bucket: dough on her head, flour on her nose, ears sticking up like white triangles. She could not help laughing at herself. “Oh, Fox,” she said. “Perhaps the hardest thing to outsmart is your own cleverness.” The next morning she took the old woman a fresh poppy-seed bun to replace the stolen one. She helped the boys find their bull, grazing peacefully near the village. Then she brought Wolf two fish. “Shall we make peace?” Wolf sniffed them and narrowed his eyes. “First, show me what's inside.” Fox laughed. “Quite right, Brother. You won't be so easy to fool now.” And this time they shared supper without a single trick.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨